crowdog66 ◾ ◾ Bad night and not so great day

Last night after I went to bed I lay tossing and turning for (literally) hours, unable to sleep. My mind kept fixating on images of death -- my mother's, potentially my own if the sigmoidoscopy turns up cancer, and George's. I felt like I was trapped in a cold maze with a belly full of razors and no way out.

Finally I took a Valium, which, after another hour or so, calmed me down enough that I was able to drift off around 4 am. Needless to say this made getting out of bed this morning a real bitch-kitty, and I still feel like I'm weighed down under about a hundred pounds of wet sand.

When I told George how utterly craptastic I'm feeling, he suggested checking the calendar. And lo and behold, it HAS been 24 days since my last period: time for another one, on the schedule my body's been keeping for the last couple of years. So it's probably just a really hellacious bout of PMS.

Having an explanation for the emotional sewage vomiting out of the depths of my spirit helps a little. Later today I'll try to post about the full moon ritual on Friday night, with pictures (Photobucket doesn't seem to want to play well with my Mac at the moment and refuses to upload any images).

In the meantime, I'll direct you to http://icanhascheezburger.com for a cute fix. And here's a tip for free, based on the reading I did last night while waiting for the Valium to kick in: Rex Stout, the mystery writer, is damned good. I'd never read anything of his before, and was most pleasantly surprised.

Thanks, as always, for listening.